Regarding Scar
by Chris Boyce
Summary: On the anniversary of his accession to the throne, Scar falls into the gorge. For everyone on the Pridelands, life can never be the same again.
1. The Anniversary

**_The Anniversary_**

Two lionesses looked at each other in bewilderment. One, shaking her head, moved carefully forward, checking the ground with a forepaw. Where Scar had stood, two lengths of the cliff edge had disappeared. The lioness lay down to spread her weight. She inched forward to the clean-broken edge from which a trickle of earth fell. She held still; it stopped. Looking down where only seconds ago there had been solid ground, at first she saw nothing.

"Well, can you see him?"

Trying to control her breath, her throat drying with the dust, she replied, "No." Then, swathed in dust, far below beyond a desiccated tree now torn apart, a ridge emerged. "Wait…" Laying on it, deathly still, was the unmistakable form of Scar. "I see him."

"Come away. Leave him there…"

* * *

Sarabi needed sleep. She always needed sleep. As each long day passed, each night came too late and went too soon. Yet each day brought more work and more pain. Soon she would have to wake again; well before her night was done; drag herself out of rest to hunt, to feed not just her pride but the hyena legion too.

Even when sleep finally caught hold of her she was not free to rest: the past clung about her, filling her with dread and pain; of loss and pain. She had had so much: a loving mate, an only son, a mother and a sister she lived to complain about. Her mother's loss, at the hunt, had struck Sarabi hard. She had lost everything. Her mate was dead; her son lost, and now her mother. All those close to Sarabi had left her; all except Sarafina, lying already asleep by her side, though Sarabi feared even her once indomitable spirit was now close to breaking.

Yet Sarabi would always wake before being woken, if indeed she had slept at all. Soon one of the hyenas would come, slap, claw and insult her to her paws and escort her away to hunt again. If they would only leave her to her sleep, leave her to grieve, to remember.

It was already light when she awoke. She was afraid. Cloud shielded the sun, but promised little rain. Sarabi had overslept: the hyenas would never forgive that. She had barely opened an eye when her hazy ears caught a male lion's voice: "No, no, no. Let them be this morning."

A female hyena answered sharply, "Scar? Are you feeling alright?"

"Oh yes. I mean, look at them: poor things; far too tired to hunt."

"So who's going to get us breakfast?"

"Hmm, let me think…. Ah yes, now I know this is a stretch even for your tiny minds, but how about you hunting for yourselves for a change? It's such a lovely morning don't you think?"

"You want us to hunt? US? Why should we hunt? They're so good at it!"

"In that case, you could do with the practice."

"What? Are you serious?"

"Oh yes. And there's just one more little thing. It's nothing."

"I know you and your little things Scar."

"No really, it's nothing. Just bring Nala back here with you."

"Nala? I thought you said you never wanted to see her back here 'while your mane was black'!"

"Yes, Nala. Now go on; run along now." Shenzi tipped her head toward Sarabi, narrowing her eyes. Sarabi closed her eyes and laid her head on Sarafina's neck, stretching forward to lick. "Oh, don't worry about them. They'll be just fine with me. We've got a big day ahead of us. It is such a lovely day, isn't it? Did I already mention that?"

The hyena breathed heavily, threatening to break into a growl.

"Off you Shenzi. Just remember: you still won't get anything without me."

Closing her eyes, Sarabi heard Shenzi scuttle off muttering to herself.

It was well into mid-morning before Sarabi woke again. Sarafina was gone. Sarabi looked around, lifted her head, yawned and stretched her foreclaws out and relaxed them back. She half-heartedly scratched at her side with a hindpaw: two lax swipes finding none of her itches. She snatched herself to her feet; her legs, unaccustomed to being straight, wavered, but held.

"Hey! Take it easy!" The lioness slipped into view ahead of Sarabi. "What's the hurry?"

"Nala, what are you doing here? We've got to go hunting. We're very late already. We've got to go."

"No we haven't." Sarabi shook her head. "Don't worry Sarabi; Malala's led the others out, she'll do fine. We're not going anywhere."

"Well now Nala, that's not strictly true is it my dear?" Scar, it had to be Scar. "Go on then. Tell Sarabi. You know you want to."

"No Scar. I don't want to. You tell her yourself."

Sarabi dropped her chin on to her foreleg. "What is it Scar? What's going on?"

"No, no, I'm not going to ruin the surprise. You'll both just have to wait until Sarafina gets back. Then we can all be one big, happy family."

Nala and Sarafina weren't family. Had Simba grown up to love Nala then perhaps? Sarafina and Nala were more than family: they were friends. Sarabi could choose her friends. She had never chosen Scar. He was just her mate's, Mufasa's, brother. Scar had brazenly taken advantage of Mufasa's sudden, tragic, painful dea… She struggled to think the word. Was he? Was he really… dead? Scar had usurped his own brother and appeared insensible to his young nephew's disappearance. Simba could not be dead. He could not be. He lived, somewhere, surely?

After taking the kingdom, Scar had brought in the hyenas to pillage the Pridelands; to suck the land dry and gnaw on its bones, and Sarabi and all the other lionesses had to get it all for them. Once she had not understood how Mufasa could fear the hyenas, yet now, and for over a year, she saw it clearly. Her hate for them grew with every morning, when, snatched from sleep, they dragged her out to hunt for them. FOR THEM!

Sarabi composed herself, choking down her feelings. "Well Scar? What's this all about?"

"Sarabi, Sarabi, don't be so impatient. You know it doesn't suit you. Why should I care if you don't want to go for a little walk to the gorge on such a lovely day as this? Oops, I've said too much! Oh please tell me you've forgotten it already, please?"

"But the gorge Scar! Do you know what day it is and how much this means to Sarabi?"

"Why yes Nala, I do believe I do. Now who's the king?"

Nala half turned her head away, replying meekly, "You are."

"Oh yes, so I am!" Scar's tone sharpened. "Now don't you forget it… again!"

Sarabi pressed herself to Nala's side. It had been several weeks since the two had been together. Nala had not been near Pride Rock since Scar had sent her away for rejecting his advances. She had used the time away from the rest of the pride well; testing and honing her hunting and stalking. She was now a young lioness who could more than look after herself.

Scar turned away and walked back to the cavern. Nala and Sarabi lay down in silence on the rock promontory. From the cave they heard Scar complaining in muffled, unintelligible echoes to Zazu.

Soon Sarafina bounded up to them, her normally bright eyes dimming. "Sarabi? Are you – Nala, what are you doing here?" Sarabi raised a forepaw to her lips and turned her ears to the cave. Nala rolled her eyes. Sarafina nodded slowly. "Oh… I see."

* * *

Why? Why go there? That's where it happened; both gone and everyone else after them. Is this the day Scar will finally tell all that happened? Is he finally about to tell the truth?

The three lionesses were now far from Pride Rock. The ground was near barren and deeply cracked. When it happened it had been fertile, flushed with green. Herds thousands strong grazed there, now it was as dead, dry and empty as Sarabi's heart.

"Why are you dragging us out here? This had better be good!"

"Good? Good's such a little word, don't you think? Why, it's better than good. This, my dear Nala, is truly magnificent. Just look… such a wonderful sight isn't it?"

The overcast slid past, they stepped down from a low ridge. To the right the gorge cut through the bronzed sward, slitting the land clear to the low northern hills. The widest chasm, rock pinnacled and tinder-dust floored, stretched out before them. On any other day it's striated sandstone, its scattered acacias, its sheer presence, witness to countless ages, would have indeed been magnificent. Yet not this day, not this place, not this company.

Sarabi shivered, halting, hanging back, head low, not looking. Sarafina whispered to her. "Come on Sassi, it's not far now. Don't give him the satisfaction."

The cloud scurried over once more, bringing a slight chilling of the air. Sarabi looked up, still holding back.

Scar walked on ahead. "Oh do come along," he chivvied. "You really don't want to miss this. Honestly, you'll thank me. You will; I promise."

Sarafina rolled her eyes and whispered to Sarabi, "See? He's enjoying this. It'd be such a shame not to ruin his 'big day'."

"Why did he have to bring us here? Here of all places? Why Sarafina? Why?"

"You know how he likes to big it up. Come on, the sooner we do this, the sooner we can get back home."

Sarabi closed her eyes. On opening them, she brought herself to look ahead, head just above her shoulders. She had been here before, to see the place where Mufasa had… the place where Simba was last seen. She inhaled, held for a moment, and then nodded slowly, moving forward.

"That's the way. That's my Sassi."

Scar stopped a few lengths short of the gorge edge and turned. Nala, Sarafina and finally Sarabi came up to him and stood facing him. There was little sound, other than a faint wisp of a breeze that ruffled Scar's mane from behind. The expanse of the gorge, here almost at its deepest and widest, spread out behind him. On the far side, all too clearly visible, was the steep slope where Sarabi now saw the herd, several thousand wildebeest strong, surging down to the gorge floor. Under that unstoppable wave, Mufasa and Simba fell.

"Ah, here we are. Wonderful, isn't it?"

"What? Can't you see Sarabi's hurting? What do you mean by dragging us all the way out here?"

"Nala! Why is everything about Sarabi? On a day like today it should be about me, after all it is the anniversary of my ascension to the throne. Oh yes, it was two years ago that my dear brother so tragically died here, and Simba… well, he vanished."

"Vanished? Scar, what happened to him?"

Sarabi sharply inhaled and shook her head. "Please Sarafina, not now. Please."

"Yes Sarafina, listen to your friends." An unfamiliar sound, a trickling, crumbling, shuffling sound – the falling of loose earth – came from beyond Scar. All four listened until it stopped. Scar quivered as if something had fallen on him then he tipped his head momentarily as if shaking it off.

"Now where was I? Ah yes. It's been two years." Scar moved forward. The lionesses stood their ground. "Two long, lonely years as your king." He moved closer to Sarabi. "Very lonely years." He smiled and turned to Sarafina. "Two years without any company of my own kind. Not exactly very friendly now are we, hmm?" He snapped his head to Nala. "Not a right and proper way to treat your king who has treated you all with the utmost respect; a king who only has your interests, and those of his loyal subjects, at heart. You would think that all of you would adore me, after all I've done for you." He turned back toward the gorge edge. "But no! You all shun me, reject me. You moan, you complain about me behind my back; you conspire against me! You should all support me – your king – but no, you can't even do that one little thing!"

Nala looked in puzzlement toward the other two lionesses.

"But I'll forgive you, if you decide to show me proper respect."

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? Nala, you of all lionesses know what I mean! You who rejected me. If you all don't change your ways, I'll send you all away for good. There's others who I am sure would be more than willing to take your places; lionesses who know how to look after their rightful king."

Nala glared at Scar. "You are not our rightful king!"

Oh no? So who is? Mufasa? No, he's dead. Simba? Where is he Sarabi? Where is your precious Simba?"

"Scar! Stop this! Can't you see what you're doing to Sarabi?"

"ME! Oh very well. Sarabi, now listen to me." Sarabi raised her head defiantly. "Listen. I can see how upset you are. I really can. Now listen, let no one mention your mate's name again."

"Do you mean Mufasa? You can't be serious!"

"Why yes Sarafina - and I'll let you off that one. Let it be known that no one is to ever mention that name again." He leaned his head, looking at Sarabi. "It's for your own good Sarabi. You'll be much happier now that you don't have to keep on being reminded."

Nala protested, "But Scar –"

"No buts! I am the king. I have spoken, it is so."

Nala turned and stomped away.

"Oh what is her problem? Well, you, Sarafina, you're her mother: what's wrong with her this ti –"

The earth shook. A rumble folded over the gorge. Thick dust clouded the group, obscuring Scar. He cried out. A hawk's screech pierced the dust, echoing from the gorge walls. A second later the crashing, rending sounds of wood splitting rang up. Moments later a dull thud closely followed by a crash.

Nala froze. The dust began to clear. Sarabi and Sarafina looked at each other in bewilderment. Sarabi, shaking her head, moved carefully forward, checking the ground with a forepaw. Where Scar had stood, over five lengths of the cliff edge had disappeared. Sarabi lay down to spread her weight. She inched forward to the clean-broken edge from which a trickle of earth fell. She held still; it stopped. Looking down where only seconds ago there had been solid ground, at first she saw nothing.

"Well, can you see him?"

Trying to control her breath, her throat drying with the dust, she replied, "No." Then, swathed in dust, far below beyond a desiccated tree now torn apart, a ridge emerged. "Wait…" Laying on it, deathly still, was the unmistakable form of Scar. "I see him."

"Come away," said Sarafina flatly. "Leave him there…"


	2. The King I See Inside

**_The King I See Inside_**

Leave him there. Leave him there? This is emptiness, nothingness. It eats lions: it took Mufasa from me. I offered up Simba to this place and it took him too. Now it's taking Scar. Yes, leave him here. It would be better for all of us if he… oh to be free of him. Nala need never fear the sound of approaching padding in the night. Sarafina can at last find a decent, ordinary, boring lion to keep her from loneliness. I just want to sleep… to live again. – "Come Nala." - To hunt for my own cubs, for our own pride; free of the hyenas, free of Scar, just free.

Sarafina's voice cut across Sarabi's thoughts. "Nala?"

Nala paced nervously, looking to the ground. "Where'd he go? Where is he? Where?" She turned and began to pace back. "No lion, not even Scar, can just disappear!"

"NALA!"

"…Mother?"

"Yes, Nala, it's me. Listen, he's dead."

"Dead! He can't be! He can't just die! Where is he? Where'd he go?"

Dead at last. The "king" is dead, long live the… the… well, what does happen now? It can't be that simple can it? Please Mufasa, help me. Give me the wisdom to see and the strength to do whatever it is I have to do. We came here when we were young; just you and I. Do you remember? We played among the rocks over there. We thought we were so rebellious, so daring. We stopped out here forever, until we heard your mother's call. Oh yes, once we heard there was something to eat we went back alright! We were sure we'd get shouted at, at the least, but no one even realised we'd been away. Our "rebellion" was just a little afternoon's playtime while everyone else was napping. We were hardly going to change the world. Now look at us.

Sarabi gazed down at Scar. He lay on his side on a ledge almost a hundred lengths below, his shoulders and forequarters under a bark-shorn, still barely leaved tree limb. Though she could not see them, she imagined his sharp eyes staring unseeing out over the gorge. This was not the way she had imagined his passing. It left so many unanswered questions, and felt so empty as if he had arranged it all just to leave her and the other lionesses in as bad a situation as possible.

Most lions left a proud legacy when they went: cubs and warm memories. Scar left a hole as big and empty as the gorge. He left no cubs, nor even the promise of any: his legacy was the hyenas and the perfunctorily grieved loss of his brother and nephew. He could have done so much, but his was a wasted gift: his ambition led elsewhere, not to the benefit of his own kind but to others. That, at least, might be thought by some to have had a sliver of nobility.

Why weren't you a good king? You never showed any signs of taking leadership seriously. Your father tried to teach you, but you didn't want to know. You cast nothing but disdain on Mufasa when he became king. You must have hated the idea of being king, but then, were you shocked when you were thrust to onto the throne? You could have done so much.

Then he moved; just a twitch of the tail, but he moved and was still once more. Sarabi was not sure she had really seen it. She watched on.

"Sarabi? Will you come home now?" Sarafina looked on as Sarabi lay still at the crumbling edge. "I'm going now Sarabi. Nala is coming with me."

"Am I, mother?"

"Yes."

Move! Damn you Scar, it's not too late. Do one good thing for a change! MOVE!

"Sarabi?"

There! He moved! He's alive! "He's alive! He's alive! Look! Look both of you. He's alive!"

"No Sarabi! He can't be. No one could have survived that fall."

"He is Sarafina. Come and see!"

"Alive… dead… alive…Scar alive," Nala muttered. "No, no, can't be. Must be dead. Must be."

"You're frightening Nala, Sarabi. He fell. He's dead."

Sarabi turned her head back from the edge. Sarafina stared at her, her eyes wide and her shoulders taut, the hair along her back prominent.

Nala paced back and forth a few lengths beyond, her eyes fixed on the ground. "The gorge reached up and took him down like a crocodile."

Sarabi thought quickly. "NALA!"

"Yes?"

"Nala, now listen to me." Nala lifted her head toward Sarabi. "Scar - Isn't - Dead."

"What? But he –"

"He's not dead. He's lying on a ledge down there. He's injured but he's not dead."

Sarafina eyed Sarabi intensely. "He will be if we leave him. Sarabi, get real. Don't you see? This is our chance to get rid of him."

"And what will the hyenas think?"

Sarafina flicked her head and tail up and away from Sarabi. "Who cares what the damn hyenas think?"

"They'll think we killed him, Saffi. They'll think we did it. It doesn't matter what actually happened. We'll never convince them that it was an accident."

"Yes, they'll never believe us!" Nala interjected.

"Exactly!" emphasised Sarabi.

"So" asked Sarafina in a sharp, almost cynical tone, "what do we do Sarabi?"

"We've got to at least look as though we've tried to save him." Sarabi beckoned to Sarafina with a tilted nod of her head.

Sarafina padded urgently to the edge and peered over. "Save him?" She shook her head and drew back. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. We have to look as though we're saving him. He'll probably die anyway before we get to him."

"Get to him? GET TO HIM? You want us all to go down there, risking our lives, for SCAR?"

"No, just us two. Nala, I want you to go and fetch Rafiki and Zazu."

"Me Sarabi? Why?"

"We don't know where Rafiki went when Scar threw him out but I think you do. You do, don't you?"

"Maybe."

"And tell the others, but quietly! We don't want the hyenas hearing about this just yet. Do you understand?"

For the first time since Scar's fall, Nala's eyes brightened. "Yes, I understand." She looked away back to Pride Rock. "Where will you be when I get back?"

"We'll be getting down to Scar. Don't try and come down there yourself: send Zazu to find us. We'll send word with him. And Nala…?"

"Yes Sarabi?"

"This is important. You do understand don't you? Your mother and I are relying on you."

"Don't worry Sarabi. I understand. Get Zazu to come here and find you, then find Rafiki and tell him. Don't alert the hyenas. I've got it."

"Good. Now go, and may the stars look down on you."

Nala looked up to the sky before setting off. The lionesses' day had started late, and it was already well into the afternoon before they had arrived at the gorge. Sarabi knew that Nala would not be able to get to Pride Rock and back before dark. She would be gone until morning.

Sarabi watched in silence until Nala had crested the nearest rise. Then Sarafina turned to Sarabi. "What has got in to you Sassi? If you think I'm going down there to try save that lion you're crazier than he is."

"I am going down there. Alone if need be. Even if I'm wrong we'll have to make sure he's really dead and not going to inconveniently reappear later on." Sarabi watched as Sarafina shook her head and then sighed, her ears flitting. "I understand if you don't feel you can come with me. I don't know if I'd come with me."

"How are you even going to get down there?"

"I don't know. I'll look along the edge. There might be a way to get down somewhere."

"Mufasa and Simba aren't down there anymore." Sarafina's tail arched with twitching tip. "You know that. Anyway, there _is_ a way. Remember? Where Scar took us to show us where it happened, remember? "

"Ah yes, I remember now. It's not far from here. I'll go that way." Sarafina gave Sarabi a resigned nod. "But Saffi, you go with Nala if you want: make sure she doesn't get into any trouble. She needs her mother. She needs you."

"No, she can more than look after herself. I'll come with you, but only to make sure he doesn't just up and disappear like Mufasa and Simba. I want to see his body. I want to look into his cold dead eyes."

It took some time for the lionesses to find the steep path down into the gorge. It had been deep into a long and traumatic night when Scar had led them down to where he had helplessly watched Mufasa's desperate and futile attempt to battle against the stampede to save Simba. The herd, several thousand strong, had had no respect for monarchy and had cruelly swept them both away… or so Scar had said.

The lionesses at first passed by the deep dip at the head of the path, dismissing it as it appeared overgrown and impassable. After searching on fruitlessly for most of an hour, ever closer to the widening, and deeply shadowed side ravines of the gorge that were the elephant's graveyard, it was Sarafina who realised their mistake and persuaded Sarabi to turn back.

They struggled through the brush with the weakening sun low on their backs. Soon, with the edge of the plateau above them, they were in deep shadow. The air was still and cool. Though it steepened, under pad the sandy ground felt secure and safe. Sarabi led down carefully. She barely noticed the green of the scattered brush, barely felt the coolness under her paw, and paid little heed to the moist dark of the undisturbed ground.

Sarafina said little. She looked for each pad-fall, often gingerly holding back to make sure the way ahead was clear.

Sarabi stopped. Sarafina was some way behind so she waited, looking around. Some way above and to her right, the full, terrible extent of the collapse was now apparent. The gash in the gorge side was several times deeper than it was wide, and much darker than the bluffs to either side. The fallen sandy earth and rock, several thousand tonnes, though Sarabi had little concept of ground having weight, covered everything in dead brown to a little above the ledge where Scar had come to rest. Only it wasn't a ledge. Though still some way below, it was clearly much wider than it had appeared from the plateau. Sarabi saw that it was the top of a stack, a pillar of sandstone – one of many, including that from which Scar has shown her the site of her mate's and son's loss – that formed the lower levels of the gorge walls.

The landslip darkened and bared the otherwise remarkably green gorge wall: mosses, grasses on the ledges, even short stunted trees, such as the one that must have broken Scar's fall and thrown him clear and possibly safe, of the smothering bulk of the slip.

If it's killed him, it's killed so much more. There's life here, green, cool, sheltered life. Above there's nothing anymore. It's all gone, or going. The Pridelands is dying, but here in the gorge, life carries on. How? This place does more than just kill. How can it kill and yet sustain? If we could only find out what it is, how it does it, and take that back. That's what we need: new life.

Sarabi looked up. The clouds, while beginning to break up, still scurried leaden grey above.

We're like those clouds: we're grey and cannot give life. None of us rain anymore. There he is: Simba. He's so young still. He's jumping up on that dead tree down there; hanging, clinging on to life. "Simba! Hold on! I'm coming!"

"Sarabi? Are you OK?"

Simba fell and was swept away before he struck the ground, dissolving into dust, carried off on the wind.

"Yes Saffi. Yes, I'm alright. Come on, we're over halfway there. We can reach him before dark."

"Reach who?"

"S… Scar."

"I did say this wasn't a good idea. Are you sure you want to go through with it?"

Sarabi stood silently for a moment. Then she led off down the still clear path. Sarafina followed closely.

The slope soon lessened and they came to a mass of stacks. Pillars all folding into others, joined, layered, tumbled together. Sarabi felt cold as she stood on a stack's flat top. She looked down and shivered when she thought she heard the rumble of the wildebeest herd scouring the gorge below.

"Look, Sarabi! There's earth's still falling. Smaller… but we shouldn't stay here any longer than we need. It's not safe."

Sarabi snapped her head back toward Sarafina.

Maybe she's right. "He's got to be here somewhere close. Come on."

The sky was beginning to redden when they finally found Scar. They had taken more hours than the seconds he had taken to fall to this place. Sarafina held back as Sarabi approached slowly. His side rose and fell with his steady but slow breathing. He was in the same position he had been when Sarabi had first seen him from far above. He had not moved. She picked her way around the loose soil chunks and dusty crumble of the fall.

Standing as close to the edge as she dared, she finally saw his face. He looked out sideways through his drawn-forward muzzle with terrifyingly glazed, unseeing eyes. He made no movement, no blink; no shiver of recognition as she came into what she assumed must be his view. Scar was indeed alive, but some strange sort of un-aliveness quite unlike anything Sarabi had ever seen. She recoiled, averting her gaze from him.

"What's wrong Sarabi? Is he dead?"

"No. He's… alive. I'm sure he is; he's breathing."

"Show me." Sarafina came forward, alongside Sarabi. She looked at Scar. It was an unfamiliar view, one that few lions, save perhaps the cubs he had never fathered, could ever have seen. Sarabi drew back, Sarafina moved closer, sniffing at Scar's still form. A scent drew her towards his mane. Where it gave way to his dark fur, it was matted to the lose earth: matted with thick, hardened blood: lots of blood.

"Sarabi?" she said without breaking her gaze from him. She called again: "Sarabi?"

Sarabi stood at the edge of the stack, unhearing, looking intently out and up to the now blooded sky. She gathered her breath and roared out, "You lose!"

'_lose_.'

"I'll not let you take him. Do you hear?"

'Hear, hear.'

"You've taken Mufasa and Simba but you're _not_ taking Scar!"

'-ing Scar, Scar, Rrr.'

Birds, settling in the acacia tops below, shimmered up, folding into swirling, wheeling flights. A shadow rushed close by overhead. Sarafina looked up but saw nothing but the brightened, orange-gold edged clouds.

Sarabi closed her eyes for a few seconds, and then turned back to Scar. He lay still. He had always lacked Mufasa's bulk, but he was by no means thin. His firm muscles covered his bones well, tight and dense. He carried little fat, though two years of indolence and indulgence had begun to change that. His coat almost matched the setting sun; his dense mane, rich, deep brown with the low falling light behind, draped close over his shoulders. His face, so often tightened by a scowl, was relaxed so that his black lips fully covered his teeth. For once – Sarabi noted it as it was so unusual for Scar – his claws were retracted; the lighter fur on the tips of his heavy paws looked soft, as if he were about to touch his new-born cub for the very first time.

Sarabi looked over him, checking him for injury. Other than a few lengthy gashes across his ribs and up along his shoulder he appeared miraculously unharmed by the fall. The blood though, now hardened and cold, in his upper mane and on his forehead, had to come from somewhere. It could only be from the side on which he lay.

Simba would be this size by now: a full grown lion, a proper mane, and eyes to melt any lioness's heart.

Sarabi got her nose under the tree bough and shoved. She strained to move it, but managed to lift it up and finally tossed partially aside. Unsure of what else she could do, she turned round and settled down beside Scar's motionless body. He was warm and strangely comforting. She laid her head on his forelegs.

She woke to a violent, repeated paw-prodding. It was almost dark; the sky over the far side of the gorge held the last glow of evening.

"Sarabi, get up! Rafiki's here."

"What? How?"

"Zazu saw us and guided him down most the way through the darkness. I went up to see what the commotion was about, and then brought him down the rest of the way. Come on, get up. Let him take a proper look. Though what he can see in this, I'll never know. I can barely see anything myself."

Sarabi shut her eyes for a few seconds, trying to wake them up. When she opened them, Rafiki stood just a length ahead, eyeing her intently. She rose, the cool of the night gripping her suddenly. The mandrill waved her away. She stepped forward, carefully avoiding Scar's legs and paws, and joined Sarafina. She couldn't bring herself to watch as the mandrill examined the lion.

"Rafiki says Nala's not handling this too well. I need to – "

"Go to her Sarafina. She needs you. She needs to know she can do things on her own. She's done well so far, but she still needs her mother's help and support."

"What will you do? You can't stay here."

"Yes I can."

"But the pride…? I told you the best thing would have been to leave him to die."

Sarabi turned back towards Scar to consider her reply. Rafiki shook his head and moved to join them. "I concur. This lion's not responding. Oh don't you worry, he is not in any pain. He won't know. It would be best to let him go. He'll not last the night most likely."

"Let him GO?" Sarabi turned and bore down on Rafiki. "Mufasa is… dead. My Simba, my son is lost. My mother died and my sister killed. 'This lion' is alive and he -" She lurched forward, closing tightly on Rafiki, getting right in his face. "-is my only hope. He's all I have left. He's all any of us have left. So if you honour Mufasa's memory as much as you love that stick of yours, you had better try and save him."

"His head must have hit the ground hard. It's a very bad injury. There is… there is little that I can do."

Sarabi turned away, withdrew a length and slumped to the ground. "Then… please Rafiki… do that little. If he dies… then he dies. If he lives…" She sighed. "I'm not going anywhere. I need to sleep. I'll be right here at dawn either way."


	3. Mufasa's Queen

**_Mufasa's Queen_**

As the waxing crescent moon sank behind filigreed cloud, Scar's guttural murmurs woke Sarabi. Scar shuddered and twitched then lay still. Sarabi tried to focus, but the flickering, thin moonlight scrambled the shadows, confusing every shape and twisting every outline. Then, with a stiffening of his whole body, Scar's pained moaning began again, rising slowly into an unnatural, unnerving, and inimitable agonised howling. Sarabi lay still, pinning herself tightly to the ground as all around her, the gorge seemed to give up all who had died there; shifting spirits rose up, tangled and torn, all screaming In torment.

The howling filled and shattered Sarabi, her terrified body resonating and quaking. She felt Mufasa's spirit rip through her. It could only be him, he warmed her and calmed her and made her feel like a mother again. Then the sound subsided. Scar quivered and his hind legs thrashed. While no ordinary lion would ever have willingly made such un-leonine sounds at least it meant one thing: Scar was still alive. Determined to not let him succumb to the spirits, Sarabi pressed herself to him, giving him her bodily warmth, willing him back from whatever hell he had entered to be judged for his crimes. He too was warm, and as his cries subsided, he seemed to press back, belly on Sarabi's spine and hindquarters, calling silently to Sarabi's mother-instincts. She responded, gently licking his foreleg on which she rested her head. Soon Scar was still once more. Sarabi closed her eyes, letting her ears fall, refusing any memories that might disturb her further. She slipped back into uneasy sleep.

It was light; it was well into morning. When grains of dry earth flicked on to her flank, Sarabi woke. Determined growls and an angry roar rolled down from the grassy plateau above. Looking up to where they had come, Sarabi saw that yet more of the high bluffs had fallen. A light scatter of fresh earth-fall all around and on her and Scar's sides showed it was falling still. Looking about, the route down seemed to still be open. Indeed Sarabi was sure she could make out movement amongst the higher rock stacks.

Sarabi rose carefully, easing herself away from Scar. She shook, stretched and turned to look out over the gorge. The clouds were gone; the sun already beat down mercilessly on the far side, though as yet the gorge floor was still in shadow. She looked back. Scar lay as still as before, though Sarabi felt sure he looked more at ease, as if merely sleeping. She knew he had moved in the night, but she was sure no one would believe her.

Sarabi turned her ears sharply as she thought she caught someone high above calling her name. She strained to listen, but heard nothing. Then it came again: "Sarabi! Scar! Raf-" She couldn't locate the call: the gorge walls echoed and distorted all sounds, magnifying one moment then pulling back and stifling the next.

"Sarabi!"

Sarabi roared back. Then gulping in air, called more softly, "Sarafina?" She realised she was wrong as she recognised the distinctive sinuous curves of Nala's back at the run.

"No, it's me, Nala!" Soon Nala rushed into full sight and stopped abruptly on the ledge, breathless. "Sarabi- we've- we've got to get out of here! The hyenas- hyenas are getting really suspicious. They want to see Scar, dead or alive."

Sarabi looked to Scar, Nala followed her gaze. "He's still alive, but I don't think he's going anywhere for several days at least, maybe weeks."

"Weeks!" Nala stared incredulously. "Weeks? Sarabi, we haven't got weeks. We've got to get Scar back to Priderock and soon."

"You're right. Look up there. See? The bluffs are still crumbling. They could fall and crush us anytime. But I don't think…" Sarabi looked out across the gorge, smiling gently.

"What don't you think?"

"I don't think the gorge wants us dead. Not yet at least."

"What?"

Sarabi turned her head slowly to Nala. "I think it wants us to know the truth, and Scar knows that truth."

"Sarabi! It's the hyenas we have to worry about. They're all fired up about some strange, huge beast they heard in the night. Coming to kill us all they said. Scar has to save us, somehow…"

"No, it's the earth-falls that are the greatest danger. The hyenas and their 'mystery beast' can wait."

"_We _can't! Look, we'll just have to leave Scar if he can't get out. We can let the hyenas come down here and get themselves killed if they must, but we've got to go."

"Listen Nala. Scar's not dead, and I'm not giving up on him. I'm not letting him die. Never give up on those you love while there's hope. Do you hear me?"

Nala dropped her head. "Yes Sarabi."

"You have hope for Simba still don't you?"

"Eh? Well, I… I… well, yes, of course."

"You see? Now, where is Rafiki?"

"Rafiki? He's on his way. He… he wanted to avoid the hyenas so he's coming up from the gorge floor. Sarafina is coming down too; she's just given Shenzi and Banzai a few things to remember. She stayed back to make sure they've gone."

Hyenas above, the gorge floor below; Sarabi and Nala were stuck between with Scar. The ledge was feeling crowded now that Rafiki had joined them and Sarafina was making her way down from the plateau.

Rafiki examined Scar, listening, feeling, peering, and poking and prodding with his stick, shaking its gourds mysteriously over him. The lionesses looked on in hopeful silence. At length Rafiki pronounced his prognosis while continuing his examination. "He's not badly hurt – no broken bones – just a few cuts and bruises."

Sarafina jumped in ahead of Sarabi. "Rafiki, we know that. So why is he still asleep?"

"Ah, but is he asleep? Tell me that."

"Of course he-"

"No, no. How many times you've slept for days eh? Not many. Not ever. He's not asleep."

"So what is he?"

"He's… elsewhere. He'll be fine when he gets back."

"When?"

Nala amplified her mother's question: "Yes Rafiki, when? Just when will he 'get back'?"

"When he's done what he need to do. Days maybe; weeks probably."

Sarabi broke her silence to press Rafiki gravely, "Rafiki, he hasn't got days, let alone weeks. We have to get him out of here today. We can't carry or drag him out, he's too heavy. He has to walk out. You've got to be able to do something, surely?"

Rafiki sat back and pondered, stroking his chin. "There is one thing, maybe. It'd maybe get him walking but it could just as easily kill him. But if we knew more…" He pointed down to the now dried but deeply blood stained sand on which Scar's head lay. "That blood has a story to tell, but it's not talking to Rafiki."

I don't know. If it's not Scar, then it's not the blood; it's the gorge, that's what can tell the story. It knows these secrets: all that's locked inside Scar. It knows why it took Mufasa. It knows whether any cub of mine will ever live to have cubs of their own: it knows where Simba went. I want just one of my cubs to outlive me. Is that so bad? Why else would I be blessed with Mufasa? So many lionesses have to mate to fulfil their duty, yet I was blessed indeed to be given Mufasa. I would have gladly given him all the cubs he had ever wanted, and still wanted more. Why take such beauty from us? Why take him, gorge? Why not take Scar? He had no cub to leave behind; no lioness to grieve for him, no pride looking to him to lead. No one hated him then; he was just Scar. Who would have cared if he had died there on your dusted floor? But now… now who but his hyenas would mourn if you took him from us? So why is he still alive? What right do you have to hold him here on your dust? Is there some dark purpose still for him in this land?

"Sarabi? … Sarabi!"

"What…. What is it now Sarafina?"

"What do you want to do?"

"What?"

"Rafiki? Should he do it?"

"Do it."

Rafiki stepped closer to Sarabi, speaking to her quietly. "Are you sure? It could kill him."

"Yes, I know. When did he ever care who he hurt? Just do it."

"Very well. I just, err, happen to have some here, err, that I have already prepared."

"Give it to him."

"Well Sarabi. I would, but it's not simple. It's best if we get him to eat it."

"Look at him. Can't you see that's not going to happen?"

"Yes, yes. Ah, well, in that case we have to get it into his blood."

"His blood?"

"Yes, very important: direct into his blood." The lionesses all looked at Rafiki in anticipation. "But he hasn't any fresh, open wounds. Can't put it in, see?"

"So what do we do?"

"You have to open a wound."

"Me? Me injure him? You're meant to make him better, Rafiki, not cut him about even more! There's been too much of our pride's blood shed already in this gorge, and you want to give it more?"

"It's the only way he's going to walk out of here Sarabi. Do you really want him to die here, because you refused to cut him?"

Sarabi pushed her rising feelings into her tensing shoulders. "I'm not going to do it. Do you hear gorge. I'm not going to hurt him. I'm going to save him!"

Sarafina pushed forward. "I'll do it."

"NO SAFFI!" Sarabi flicked out her paw, claws extended. She pulled her strike so close to Sarafina's cheek that both could feel the heat of the other.

"You're prepared to hurt me, but not do this to save Scar? Stand aside Sarabi, you're not the lioness I remember."

Sarabi took two deep and lightly held breaths, and then lowered her paw, withdrawing her claws slowly. She stepped back, clearing the path to Scar. Turning away to look out over the gorge, she shuddered as she felt Sarafina's blow land. There was no cry of pain, no growl of exhilaration, no thud of a body brought down; just the cold rending of skin and warm flesh by a well-tended, practised claw. A gourd cracked. Sarabi heard Rafiki fussing for several moments. Then she felt his arm over her shoulder.

"Sarabi, you're strong; not even Scar's broken you yet. Beware, there's passion deep in you too, like your father-"

"You knew my father?"

"Never met him, but I heard of him: headstrong, stubborn, cussed even; very short-tempered but fair and just; and he had a look that could melt a lioness at twenty lengths."

Sarabi stared out. At length she quietly said, "How long will it take?"

"Don't know; never given it to a fully grown lion. You don't know what he weighs, do you?"

"Weighs? No, of course not. Does it matter?"

"Don't give him enough he'll… he'll just have some wild, wild dreams. Not quite enough and he'll not be able to walk. Too much and he'll never walk again, or dead. At least he'll go happy. What he weighs is what makes 'just enough' into 'too much'".

"Didn't you check?"

"Check? Just how am I going to do that eh? I'm not allowed within five hundred lengths of him! It's the law: just ask Zazu. Have you lifted him up?" Rafiki lifted his head over Sarabi's back and looked over to the other two lionesses "No, and you Sarafina? No, I didn't think so. I had to… estimate. What else could Rafiki do eh?"

Sarabi sighed. "So, what happens now?"

"Can't be sure. Rafiki won't be here, for sure: can't take that risk. I want to live." The lioness stood by silently. "He'll wake in a few hours. He won't really wake. He'll still be in a sort of dream. He'll do whatever he does in that dream. You'll be anything but Sarabi to him. You have to be in his dream too, guiding him, leading him home."

Sarafina moved closer. "Rafiki, what will I be?"

"Only he'll know. His mother, a six-headed wildebeest, a fire-demon, a talking pink slug called Quentin, Mufasa even but not you."

"How do you know?" Sarabi asked. "Are you sure?"

"Oh yes." Rafiki paused. "I had tasted some of this once. Spent the next day talking about flying with Mufasa."

"I… I don't remember that."

"No, you wouldn't. He'd been dead three moons. I think I've got the dose just about right now. I still see Mufasa… I'd better be going; I can't be here when he wakes."

Sarabi alone felt Rafiki's gentle squeeze of her shoulders. Then, despite the heat of the day building all around, she felt chilled as he lifted his arm away. "Thank you Rafiki, for everything you've done for Scar."

"No, Sarabi. I did it for you."

Rafiki scuffled away back down toward the gorge floor. As soon as he was out of earshot, Sarafina padded over to Sarabi and sat by her side. "Sarabi, you do remember that we have to put down mad lions, don't you?"

"Yes. I think we can keep Scar away from anyone if he starts to rant."

"The law, Ahadi's law, applies to lionesses too."

"If you're going to just be negative then you'd better find something else to do." I'm the queen, and I can do what I want… no, only if it's the right thing to do. "I am aware of that. Until Scar's back on his paws we have to keep things in order. You can see that, can't you?"

"Yes Sarabi, but you're not the King of the Pridelands."

"I am queen."

"_A queen,_ but not Scar's queen. I could have been, and so, the stars shine down upon her, could Nala there."

"I am still Mufasa's queen."

"Yeah, like I said, that law applies to lionesses too."

"Go follow Rafiki. He knows the way down in the gorge and back home."

"No Sarabi. I'm not your servant; I'm your friend if you remember. You go yourself."

"Please Sarafina, I can't go. I can't leave Scar."

"You heard Rafiki. He won't wake for a few hours at least; plenty of time for you to scout the route. You've been here for how long? Too long! Go on, take a break and get away from here for a while."

"You've got to scout Sarafina."

"Why? Why do you have to stay here with Scar? Why?"

"Look you two," Nala interrupted. The two lionesses turned and looked to her. They had all but forgotten she was there. "I'll stay with Scar"

"No, Nala. I must stay."

"Sarabi, you said we're all in this. Mother's right: you need a break, you go scout. Mother can go back to the pride and I'll stay and look after Scar."

The two elder lionesses turned to each other and agreed wordlessly. Sarafina looked sternly at her daughter. "Are you sure? What if he tries anything?"

"What can happen? You heard Rafiki; if he's going to wake it won't be for several hours. Now go on both of you! I'll be fine."

"Are you sure Nala?" asked Sarafina.

"Or course mother. Now let me be." Sarafina tightened her forehead. Sarabi had seen this before. Nala had made up her mind. That was the end of the matter.

As Sarabi watched Rafiki, noting his path to the distant gorge floor, Sarafina looked on. Something had changed between the two, accentuated by Sarabi's silence. Soon Sarafina set off alone back up the gorge to the plateau.

Still resolutely looking out over the gorge, Sarabi calmly called to Nala, "Do you remember Simba?"

"Of course I do. How could I forget that little furball?"

"That 'little furball' is my son."

"Yes, of course. I meant-"

"I know what you meant. You're right. There wasn't much to him then was there? But you two got on, didn't you?"

"Sure… we were friends. It wasn't as if we were really going to be married or anything… were we? We were way too young."

"No, not if you two didn't want to. It was always your choice, both of you." Sarabi finally dropped her head, turning to look into Nala's eyes, softening her tone. "You're not too young now."

"I'm not, but Simba… he's still that young isn't he? He'll always be young."

"I don't know Nala. Yes I do. I know he's alive somewhere. He has to be."

"What would he be like now? All grown up I mean?"

"A lot like his father, and a bit like me too I shouldn't wonder."

"I don't…. I don't remember his father."

"I do… I often wish I didn't: that I could forget and move on, but Mufasa's always with me; always in me, living here in me. He might live in Simba too."

Sarabi stepped over to Scar. The wound, oozing green-brown over more than a paw's width on his upper inner thigh, was where a lioness would first open up any carcass. Sarafina clearly had been coolly efficient. Sarabi bent down to lick at the ooze but stopped short, remembering Rafiki's warning of its potency. It smelled surprisingly sweet, with a mild tang of spice; not at all as unpleasant as it looked.

Now all they could do was prepare to leave the gorge, to scout… and wait.


	4. The Valley of the Shadow of Death

**_Through the Valley of the Shadow of Death_**

"Go Sarabi! I can look after Scar." Sarabi stood firm. Nala shoved forcefully past. "If you stand there much longer you'll begin to look like my mother. Now go."

"Are you sure you're going to be OK?"

"Yes! How hard can it be, looking after a sleeping lion? Where's he going to go?"

"Nala, the bluffs are still falling."

"Yes, I know. Look, I'll watch out."

"If anything happens, you get away. Leave Scar. You understand?"

"Yes Sarabi. Now go on, go."

Sarabi awkwardly backed a couple of paces away from Scar. Then, turning down slope, she paused and looked back. Nala, settling beside Scar, shook her head slowly then flicked it, quietly shooing Sarabi away.

Sarabi walked off, a little unsteadily at first; her accustomed poise returning as the stiffness in her legs eased. She had no real idea how much the awakened Scar might be able to do. Would he be able to walk as he normally did, or would Rafiki's unguent so cloud his mind that he would need guiding at every pawfall? Just what would he be able to do? There was little chance that he'd be able to run, nor even jump, so the way had to be easy.

Over time that made the lives of lions seem like fleeting moments, the rock of the gorge had crumbled down to coarse sand that filled any gaps in the bed rock, and made the path fairly smooth. At first it was broad enough for all three to go abreast, allowing the lionesses to support Scar if needed. Further down, the bed rock intruded more, both narrowing the path and making the going harder. Even so, Sarabi felt that Scar could most likely manage. He had to, there was no choice: there was no chance that he could have climbed out back up to the plateau. It was either this path, or not get out of the gorge at all.

Further down still, the path turned sharply back on itself, snaking down the gorge side. The way ahead was studded with rocks, many no bigger than a lion's paws. Some, much larger and reaching down into the ground, demanded careful pad-fall. Some were so big that they had to be walked around or over. All had been sculpted and smoothed by the wind, and felt warm but comfortable under pad. Some, cracked and broken, their once-smooth surfaces shattered into jagged, raw edges, ridged up painfully into Sarabi's tough, slate-dark pads. Beyond, the way broadened out, and the slope shallowed, merging into the floor of the gorge. Sarabi could see why Rafiki had chosen this way to come. If Scar could reach here, then he would most likely make it home.

Sarabi stood in shadow at the margin of the gorge floor. The walls towered over her. She felt small, but knew still that the gorge meant her no harm. Maybe it meant Scar no harm too, and had just been caught unawares by his impetuous decision to visit its edge.

The shade was slowly narrowing. By the time they got back here with Scar, they would most likely have to walk up the gorge in full sun. Sarabi's mouth felt dry, her dark lips, dusty. The waterhole felt a long, long way away, and they still had a hard, slow journey just to reach where she now stood. With a resigned sigh, she turned to walk back up the way she had come.

* * *

Nala lay a little way from Scar. "He was shaking – thrashing really – for a while, but he's calmer now. I thought he might wake, but no… he's restful now." Nala lifted her forequarters from the ground, curved her back in a stretch, and then drew herself up to her full height. "Sarabi, what if he doesn't wake?"

Sarabi walked over to Scar. She laid down beside him once more, her head by his hindpaws.

If he died, if Scar died, what then? What would become of the pride? A pride without a male lion was… well, what was it? It would have no cubs, and in time, no future, but then Scar had no cubs anyway, what was the difference? A pride without a male was defenceless. No it wasn't. It was the lionesses who defended the cubs. The males just defended their own pride, their territory and their property; their lionesses; not _the_ pride. A pride without a king was still a pride. It was the lionesses who were the pride. The only thing they really need males for was… no Mufasa; there was more to us than that. There was much more.

Sarabi noticed the blood on Scar's thigh wound had congealed dark and hard. She licked at it distractedly. She was thankful that Sarafina kept her claws clean, and sharp. Sarabi doubted the gashed skin would hold until they got out of the gorge, nor even down to its floor. There was no doubt the wound would be painful. Sarabi knew it would be better for all three if the effects of the unguent blotted out that pain.

The far side of the gorge had lain in full sun for most of the day. As the heat built, so too did the stresses within the rock until, with a shattering report that rolled back and forth across the gorge, some of the rock gave way. Sarabi instinctively sprang up and dashed away. Nala, pacing the edge of the ledge, turned on her hindpaws with a powerful spring from her forelegs. Neither knew from where the sound came, nor what had made it. Both knew it was alien and roared "danger!"

Sarabi took hold of her fear ten or more lengths from Scar. Hearing nothing alarming, she pushed down her fear against her pounding heart and raging breath, trying to regain her composure. She cowered to the ground, straining to listen to any sounds of danger, pressing her chest against the dust in an attempt to control her breathing. Nala stood, wide-eyed but otherwise remarkably calm, some way beyond the still unmoving Scar.

We have to get away. Was that a shot? Had a shot taken Mufasa? Simba ran off terrified, not stopping until so far from home that he couldn't find his way back? No, it was the herd – the gorge. Was Mufasa really already dead as he lay there under that withered acacia trunk? Where were Simba's paw prints? Where had he gone?

"Sarabi!"

If only Scar had known; if only he could tell.

"Sarabi! Look!"

What's she looking at? She's… no-

Nala was staring at Scar. He was looking back: eyes open, just.

Sarabi blinked back at Nala. "Scar?"

"Yes, look at him. He's watching me!"

Sarabi turned her head to watch Scar's side. His dusted, counter-shaded underfur rose and fell with a new, quickened rhythm. "Scar?" she asked quietly. She knew if he replied, the pain would return. Hunting for the hyenas would be all the pride would ever do. That would be their life. None of the lionesses would give him cubs; cubs who would know nothing but toil and exhaustion, pain and hunger. The future of the pride lay in a sound; in a word spoken by Scar. Sarabi waited. "Scar?" she repeated with more insistence. The lion's forelegs shook momentarily, and he then lay still once more. No sound came from him.

With delicate care, Sarabi got up and moved slowly away. As soon as she came into his eye-line, Scar's eyes tracked her all the way to Nala's side. Sarabi though, had a distinct feeling that Scar wasn't with them at all; his eyes took in the light, but Scar, a lion as unique as any that roamed the savannah, knew them not. The two lionesses looked on, staring. Did Scar see them? If so, he showed no sign of recognising them.

"Why's he doing that Sarabi?"

"Get over there so he can't see you."

As Nala bounded off, Scar's eyes followed her as far as his still motionless head, lying sideways on the ground, allowed. Then they stared into the wall of the gorge. Scar had no expression.

"This is really weird."

Scar's upper ear twitched, putting several flies to flight. Then it turned to Nala.

Sarabi called deliberately, enunciating the words clearly, "Scar, can you hear us?" The ear stayed focussed on Nala.

"Scar, it's me, Nala. You can hear me?" Scar's head shifted slightly. Sarabi felt the pain the effort must have caused. The lion's lips quivered, maybe in an attempt to speak. All that passed from them was a plosive breath from deep in his throat. Nala walked back into Scar's eye line. His head dropped back to the ground. Nala went over to him, turning her head and pressing it gently to his. "Don't try to talk; just rest." She backed away, as soon as she got out of Scar's view, he became agitated, turning his ears and twitching his legs. Sarabi looked sternly at Nala. Nala slipped back to Scar's side and lay down beside him. "I'm here. It's all right, I'm here."

He's not going to be able to do this is he? He's not walking out of here. Did Rafiki give him enough? Was that all he'll do? He'll never lead the pride. Mufasa, what have I done? Sarafina was right; I should have left him down here to die. It would have been better for us, better for him. It was the sensible thing to do, wasn't it? But I couldn't. I couldn't just leave him here to die, could I? You wouldn't have left your brother to die would you? You didn't leave our son to die down there. No, you had to try to save him. I had to try and save Scar, and now I'd dragged Nala and the whole pride into this. Will we get out of this? Will we even get out of this gorge? What then? Help me Mufasa, I need you. I need you so much.

After a moment's silent thought, Sarabi walked round behind Nala and Scar and lay down on the loose earth half a length from Scar's back. The blood matting Scar's mane had long since stopped flowing. That much was good, but it had oozed into and become part of the sandy ground. His attempt to lift his head had left his mane coated in browned sand. That only made the full extent of the blood stain more evident. Sarabi sighed to herself, and turning her head away from Scar, tried to rest.

The shadows caught up with them, the stack top was bathed in searing midday sun. Sarabi couldn't sleep, she writhed and rolled, trying to get comfortable: first on her side, then on her back, then forelegs under, then stretched out to one side. Once she rolled over and her hindlegs struck Scar's hindquarters roughly, but he, at least, slept on. A while later, she got up, and walked off, noting Nala was still asleep just as she had lain beside Scar.

When Sarabi returned, she stopped as she came into Scar's view. His eyes were open once more. She moved forward slowly. As before Scar tracked her. Then he lifted his head clear from the ground and looked at her straight with his left eye, his right looked beyond.

"Scar, how do you feel?"

He opened his mouth as if about to speak, but once more, made no sound. He looked confused as if his lack of speech bewildered him. He tried to lift his forequarters, but Nala's weight on his forelegs held him down. She roused, and on feeling Scar's attempts at movement, snatched herself up. "Scar, no! You don't need to move. Stay still and rest!"

"No Nala, it's working. We need him up. Come on Scar, we've got to get you home."

Freed of the burden of Nala's bulk, Scar attempted to rise. His hindlegs appeared not to respond and his forelegs couldn't hold him; he slumped back down.

"That's it! Come on Scar, get up!"

Scar tried again, lifting his upper body off the ground, just about managing to lock his forelegs underneath. Then, straightening his back, he strained to get up on to his hindlegs. At first they wouldn't move. Sarabi feared that he might have broken his back, but surely Rafiki would have seen that? No, Scar had no broken bones; Rafiki had said; he could walk.

Nala stood close to Scar as he made another pained attempt to get to his feet. He closed his eyes, seemingly to gather his strength, and then brought himself to a near-stand, his hindlegs not fully extended. He swayed and then staggered forward. Nala rushed to his side to support him. He stemmed his forward movement and straightened himself up roughly. He was slumped a little on to his right side. His right eye still looked away from Sarabi, but he stood, just about.

Sarabi moved toward him, slipping to his left. His left eye followed. His right stayed where it was. The patch of blood where he had lain was extensive. His left shoulder was caked in his own blood. Looking up, Sarabi soon saw in horror from where it came: Scar's left temple was blooded, and worse, noticeably dented where he had crashed heavily into something as he fell.

"Nala, stay there, please. Keep him up."

Sarabi turned to Scar and closed to his left side. She whispered into his ear, hoping he could still hear. "I'm so sorry Scar. Forgive me." Scar shook and leant heavily on Sarabi. "Can you walk?" He seemed to nod. "Let's go." Scar did not move. "Over there, down that path to the gorge floor." Still Scar did not move, though he did pull himself up to a straighter stand. "Nala, you'll have to show him. Go on!"

Nala moved a length forward, then another. Finally Scar lumbered forward. Sarabi stayed tightly with him. Nala moved on, paused and looked back.

"Don't worry Nala, the way's easy enough. Just follow that path and we'll get down. Go on." Nala nodded and walked forward again. "Not too fast though!"

Scar followed Nala down the slope. His walked soon gained strength and balance, though there was still something not right about it. The two lionesses called to each other often, Nala ahead, unsure of the way, Sarabi at Scar's side, guiding both. Scar though, sleepwalked his way along, saying nothing, oblivious to all pain; such as his thigh wound; and seemingly to anything at all.

The three lions reached the gorge floor much later than Sarabi had expected. Rather than the full midday sun Sarabi had wanted to avoid, they reached the easier going of the sandy floor late into the afternoon. Scar seemed to want to walk out unsteadily to the centre of the gorge, toward a flat platform with a broken spindly acacia stump. Sarabi had to push roughly on his side to steer him away and keep to the side. Above a hawk screeched. Sarabi realised where they were; she pushed much harder, determined not to go to that place again.

"Nala, lead him away. Keep to the side; don't let him wander out there."

"Is that so Sarabi?"

Sarabi's heart shook and held for a moment. She knew that voice. She wanted more than anything to hear it again: smooth, deep, dignified with a hint of playfulness. She closed her eyes. Her heart thumped back into her, racing like her pawfall as she closed on a gazelle. No, this couldn't be. It was everything she had ever asked for come at once. It was close, so close she could lean out and sink herself into that mane again. She breathed in the unmistakable scent, not daring to open her eyes, not believing that it could be real.

"Sarabi-"

"No, not now. Say nothing; just be here." Pressing herself to his side, she felt his heartbeat; his heartbeat, here with her; strong and steady; her head in his mane; his scent all around, enveloping her. "Please be here."

He laughed gently, Sarabi felt his ribs lifting. "Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?"

"I don't want to say this, but you're…"

"Sarabi, open your eyes. Open your eyes and look at me. Then tell me what I am."

Please no. Let me stay here. I know you're here."

"Open your eyes. You can't hide away for ever. You have so much life still to give."

"I don't… I don't want to be disappointed; to have my heart shattered again."

The voice lifted; lightening almost into a laugh. "You won't be Sarabi. Now then, let's open your eyes and tell me what I am."

Against all her instincts she opened her eyes slowly. Brightness poured into her. It was true.

"You are my king."

"No. You are my queen. The sun has long set on my time as king."

"No, you're here, this is the brightest day."

"Please Sarabi, listen. It has been a long night. You must be ready."

"Ready? Ready for what?"

"The sun will rise again soon, at dawn, after the darkest hours of the night."

"It can never be dark with you here."

"It's darker than the blackest lion's mane. I was afraid I'd lost you. I was lost too but now I know I'll always be with you, but I must go."

"Go? But you've only just come back. Don't go, you don't have to go. Please don't. Mufasa, please!"

"I must. I have duties I must attend to. I cannot help you. You're on your own. You must make your own choices, remember? You always had so much more life than I. Don't hide yourself away; give yourself to others. How many cubs have you had since I… left?"

"Cubs? None, you know that. Without you, and Simba, it seemed so… wrong."

"There is still time. Remember, you have so much life to give; you're so alive. I… I am empty."

Sarabi slowed, lifting her head from out of his mane, letting him move ahead, slipping away from her….

"Sarabi?"

He called back, not breaking his stride, "I am dead Sarabi. I died here in the gorge. You are still so wonderfully, beautifully alive, you must let me go. I don't belong here anymore. I still have work to do."

"Mufasa!"

"Sarabi? Are you alright? What's going on?"

Nala stood wide-eyed a few lengths ahead, alongside Scar. Mufasa was gone.

Sarabi collected her thoughts and feelings, ones she'd thought she'd never feel again. She put them aside and lifting her head called back to Nala, "Nothing. It's all right now. I just felt…"

"You don't look alright Sarabi. When was the last time you ate?"

"Two, three days, no, I don't know… a long time."

"Far too long. Look, I'm sure mother'll have something stashed away somewhere; in one of her trees most likely. I'm sure she's part leopard."

"Look out! Scar's wandering off again!"


End file.
